Hurricane Oklahoma

I somehow managed to sleep through a storm Sunday night that can only be described as Hurricane Oklahoma. Radar images from the Oklahoma Mesonet revealed a picture of a storm unlike any other that has ever occurred, not just in the United States but anyplace in the world. Re-enervated Tropical Storm Erin was to blame. Winds reached near-hurricane proportions and the storm dropped twelve inches of rain, flooding and causing major destruction from Piedmont to Kingfisher.

The yearly rainfall in Oklahoma is already more than twenty inches over average. Erin preceded Hurricane Dean, the first major storm of the year in the Gulf of Mexico. Dean, a category five hurricane, is on a direct course to ravish the Yucatan Peninsula within the next few hours. Following less than two years after the massive destruction of Rita and Katrina, Dean is a but a harbinger of the tremendous climate changes being seen around the world, and during the world-class storm felt Sunday right here in Oklahoma.

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Walking Woman

As those of you that keep up with my blog know, my dad Jack lives in the Alzheimer’s ward of an assisted living center. Tonight, Marilyn, friend Debbie and I took Dad out to dinner. When I returned him to his room at 7:30, almost everyone had retired to their rooms. Almost everyone. One of the women, as always, was walking slow laps, up and down the hall. I call her the walking woman.

I do not know this person’s name, nor have we exchanged even as much as a glance. Since my dad came here, I have never seen this woman speak, or even acknowledge anyone’s presence. All I have ever her seen her do is walk.

This woman is very slender and has white hair. She walks in a continuous circle, back and forth, her hands clasped behind her back like an ice skater. Her head always cocks to the left, resting almost on her shoulder as if she no longer has the strength to maintain its weight, or maybe the weight of the memories her mind contains. At 7:30 tonight, she was still walking. The past couple of years have caused me to reevaluate my own thoughts, and the meaning of the memories in my own mind.

More than twenty years ago, my wife and I had a small oil company with forty or so employees. Caught up in the eighties oil bust, we lost everything we owned. It was even hard to hold on to our self esteem and for many years all we had was each other, and the empty knowledge that we had always done the best we could. During this time, I was grossly overweight and I began to jog.

I started out running to the end of the block. Soon, I was much lighter, running 10 Ks and feeling better about myself. When Anne got lung cancer, I continued to run, stealing a few precious moments alone everyday, even as I worried about being away from the house. It was more than guilty pleasure. The simple act of running helped keep my sanity. It also kept me strong, both from the physical toil my wife’s illness placed on me, and the mental tax that I knew I would inevitably have to pay.

Tonight, after leaving my dad in his room, I watched the walking woman and I felt that I truly understood her plight. Her children must all be dead, or else don’t care anymore. She walks because she is trying to stay strong, retain her sanity, and keep a grasp on a fleeting reality that is rapidly forsaking her.

I wanted to communicate with her, put my arms around her scrawny old body, and give her a hug. Instead, I realized it was beyond mattering. She had achieved her goal. Her mind no longer knew why she walked but her legs kept moving. I punched the access code on the keypad, shut the security door behind me, and disappeared alone into the night.

http://www.ericwilder.com http://www.gondwanapress.com

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